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Epilogue
Two months later…
* * *
Moe held the door for Breely as they stepped out the back door of the lodge carrying glasses of iced lemonade.
Breely laughed. “I feel a little déjà vu, don’t you?” A shiver rippled down her spine despite the bright summer sunshine warming the air in West Yellowstone. “I can’t believe it’s been two months since the explosion.”
Moe nodded. “Thankfully, Dillon is behind bars along with his sidekick.”
“Between the sidekick and the pilot, they filled in the blanks. Dillon didn’t have to tell all.” Breely sighed. “I think it’s fitting that we’re celebrating the lodge reopening today and that Venezuela is electing a new president. I can’t wait to find out who won.”
“Me, too.” Moe glanced over his shoulder. “Are they coming?”
“I thought they were.” Breely leaned back into the lodge. “Mom, Dad, are you coming out back with us?”
“We’re coming,” her mother said. “Your father filled his glass too full and is afraid he’ll spill it on the freshly cleaned floors.”
Moe held the door for Breely’s folks.
Her mother patted his cheek on her way through. “You’re a good man, Morris.”
Breely was glad her mother and father had warmed up to Moe. She loved her parents and wanted them to love the man she cared about most. And Breely loved Moe with all her heart.
Everything about that day was beautiful and good. Breely was happy that all of Moe’s team were able to make the celebratory reopening of the lodge. Their girlfriends and fiancées had come as well.
Stone and John Jacobs had grill duty, with strict instructions from Cookie not to burn the steaks.
Cookie had recovered nicely from smoke inhalation and was busy in the kitchen with Tinker as his helper, making all the sides that would accompany the meats on the grill.
Tables had been arranged on the back porch, with red gingham tablecloths and vases of red and white carnations. That had been Breely’s mother’s contribution. Fiona Brantt had fallen in love with the lodge and West Yellowstone the moment she’d arrived a week ago.
Robert Brantt had pulled strings and called in favors to have the lodge restored in record time. He’d even had a stone pizza oven built in the place where the explosion had blown out a wall in the kitchen.
If Cookie hadn’t been in the pantry when the charges had gone off, he wouldn’t have survived. The kitchen had been demolished.
Breely’s father had worked with his architects and John Jacobs to have the place restored with all the modern conveniences and an eye to preserving the structural past. Both John and Cookie had been thrilled with the outcome.
An army of restoration specialists had cleaned the walls, ceilings and wood floors, removing soot and the smell. Carpets and furniture that couldn’t be salvaged had been replaced.
Breely had just set down her glass of lemonade when the back door of the lodge opened and a German shepherd trotted through, followed by two women and two more men.
One of the women Breely recognized by the advertisements and movie trailers. Her beautiful light blond hair and blue eyes were unmistakable.
Breely recognized the man with her as Hank Patterson, the one who’d been with Moe at the Tumbleweed Tavern the night that had changed her life.
Hank leaned close to his wife. “Darling, I think we timed it right. I smell steak!”
“Of course, you smell it. We sent some of our best down for this celebration.” She crossed the porch to where Kyla leaned against a post, her face pale. “Kyla, honey, it’s so good to see you.”
Kyla gave her a wan smile but held up her hands. “Great to see you too, Sadie, and I’d love a hug, but you might not want to get too close.”
Sadie frowned, “Why?”
Kyla rubbed her belly. “I’m not feeling too hot, today. I think it’s something I ate.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Sadie took her arm and led her to a rocking chair. “You sit and let everyone else help themselves. Would you like for me to get you a glass of ginger ale to help settle your stomach?”
